She Would Draw Flowers
SHE WOULD DRAW FLOWERS
by Kirsten Savitri Bergh.
Please visit www.shewoulddrawflowers.com for more information about this book. This poetry book, written by a 17 year “young”woman, embraces life, death and love in a way that invites us in. Authentic, light-filled and down to earth. FIFTH EDITION BEING PUBLISHED 2009 with NEW CHAPTER More poetry and Artwork and access to new website for the book. Kirsten Bergh was 17 when she died suddenly in a car accident. She Would Draw Flowers is her legacy of art and poetry which weaves a rich tapestry of joy, beauty, and inner transformation. Waldorf Education, which schools the imagination through story-telling, poetry, and visual arts, gave her a wholistic view of the world which encouraging self-expression. At age 16, Kirsten faced the death of her father and other personal life challenges. Poetry was her way of penetrating through her grief and loss to confirm that love is the strongest thread in the fabric of life. This book is her offering that can inspire and guide us all in strengthening our living connection to people, nature and the cosmos. Introduction by Linda Bergh, written April 1997, five months after the death of her daughter. Kirsten was seventeen when she and her friend Nina died. I had come to visit them in Harlemville NY where they were both attending Hawthorne Valley, a kindergarten through senior high school. I was a passenger in the car with them and was the sole survivor of the accident. My last memory was feeling our car slide out of control as we rounded a curve into the path of an on-coming sixteen-wheeler. It was later reported that black-ice conditions were the probable cause of the accident. Kirsten left a legacy of paintings, drawings, and poetry which she wrote during her high school years. These are among the few tangibles I now hold to remember my daughter. But the profound path of her inner transformation shared in these poems has also served as my guide for letting her go. As I share them with others I discover that they, too, find a pathway to her. This pathway, in spite of all the pain of loss, remains open. So I offer with this book a means by which all who knew and loved Kirsten might rekindle feelings of warmth, love, and compassion for her. I believe these feelings of warmth will find their way to her as nourishment and help her on her continuing path. As a mother, each day facing this unimaginable loss, I question how I might remain connected to my beloved daughter while leaving her free to journey on. I find answers in the poems that Kirsten has left. It is my hope that you will also experience the comfort, inspiration, and hope that these poems continue to awaken in me. SHE WOULD DRAW FLOWERS. By Kirsten Savitri Bergh. Available at www.anthropress.org ISBN # 0-9650869-1-7 $9.95. Also available wholesale plus shipping for stores, institutions, or orders of 10+ through Linda Bergh: firstname.lastname@example.org send check: Linda Bergh 4315 Xerxes Ave.S. Mpls., MN 55410
PURPLE VIOLETS My path has never been strewn With broken glass And cutting words. No I have walked my life With feet pale and tender, On pillows of purple violets, Embraced by yellow voices That enfold me, Leading me, with trusting eyes closed, Away from the sharp slippery rocks, Away from the sucking pool Which threatens to pull me under Shielding me with gentle blue sky wings From the screaming, tearing, empty wind Which tries to blow me away I did not ask for this path, For the loving smiles And guiding hands, But they are mine. This is how I am. This is my path. It is mine to walk, To change as I please, To take care of Forever. I must cherish my violets, Or they will die So I will. Forever.
FOR YOU PAPA I thought I heard your footsteps Running toward me Disturbing the stones But when I opened my eyes IJ saw it was only the waves Pulling and swirling like hands I thought I felt your smile Warm and loving upon my face But when I opened my eyes I saw it was only the sun Beaming at me across the water I thought I heard you Whisper my name. But when I opened my eyes I realized it was only the wind Playing in my hair I thought I felt you softly kiss my check But when I opened my eyes I saw it was a leaf Caressing me with gentle strokes And then I felt your love In and all around me Powerful yet gentle like the waves, Warm and shining like the sun, Soft; yet strong like the wind, Tender and alive like the leaves. And I didn’t even have To open my eyes I knew you were there.
ODE TO MY TREE
We have grown together You and I Even now, as I sit, cradled In your leafy embrace Gazing through your speckled leaves, I feel no difference between Yesterday and today. Your strong branches have always Supported me, Held me, caught me when I slopped. Your dancing leaves have always Created a canopied chamber Where I can hide. When rhe wind swayed your branches I clung to you, feeling your breath. When I come home, Your feathered arms greet me, beckoning, And I answer your call. No one else responds. Only I have explored your kingdom, Stood balancing on one bare foot, Trying to move with your rhythm. Although others have climbed The flimsy ladder into your arms, They grew tired of your silence, Of your stillness. But we are alike, you and i. We have changed together, adapted to each other. Now, as your newborn leaves Flicker and flash in the sun, I can see your smile. We share a secret, You and I.
Maybe I’ve loved you since before the mountains were hills and ached for the sky and we can remember what it’s like to be green and rolling and fall in love again and again.